


A New Day

by Sunshineditty



Category: New Girl, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Post Season 2, Total craic that came to me while watching New Girl with Dylan O'Brien guest starring, otp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-01
Updated: 2013-05-01
Packaged: 2017-12-10 02:39:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/780815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunshineditty/pseuds/Sunshineditty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles' painfully funny journey into love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Day

**Author's Note:**

> If it helps, the song "Miserable" by Lit was playing in the background while I was writing.

Stiles was lost.

Lost and drunk.

Lost and drunk in the only nice hotel in Beacon Hills.

Stiles was lost and drunk in the only nice hotel in Beacon Hills and carrying a guitar he had no clue where he picked up, but damn if he was going to return it.

Maybe.

Probably.  He _was_ the son of the Sheriff of Beacon Hills after all and it was sorta his civic duty to return lost or stolen items.

Okay probably if he could remember where in hell he got it from.

Hopefully not the faires. Or the goblins. Or the Maenaids. Or the witches.

Oh fuck...witches.

No, fuck that noise. This was Senior Prom, the Packs had survived the hell of the last two years, and it was the literally the last dance of their entire high school careers, and he wasn't going to give a shit about where he picked up the guitar, and he was going to sing his fucking heart out, even if the only song he knew was a shitty love ballad from the 90s his mom used to sing and dance to while making cookies in the kitchen.

Unfortunately he didn't have anyone to sing his shitty ballad to, since he was lost and drunk in the only nice hotel in Beacon Hills because his friends were all paired up and fucking their brains out while he was wandering around the hallways trying to find the exit.

Instead, he found a fairy princess - well, not literally since she's obviously human and he's _actually_ met one before and Disney lied. Lied like flies. They're mean and nasty and like to eat delectable Stiles shaped meat. Meat, ugh. - sitting on the floor, her pretty green eyes wet and her dark hair disarrayed. He doesn't know _why_ she's so pretty, but she's there and an audience, and suddenly they're singing together, she knows the words to the shitty love ballad too, and then there's a perfect stillness, a silence Stiles has never experienced.

He wasn't ashamed to admit he loved watching old sappy romantic comedies, though the black and white ones not Meg Ryan ones, and he knew this moment. This was when the hero and the heroine lean in, their eyes wide, as their lips gently touch and fireworks shoot up into the sky. He's not Drew Barrymore and has kissed before but Derek doesn't count because the sex potion the Djinn made him drink to keep his soul - don't ask, it's better not to get him started - turned him into a horny indescriminate rabbit who jackrabbited against the first person he found (and he steadfastly ignores the fact he saw Jackson, Danny, Scott, _and_ Isaac before he ran into Derek).

Then the door opened, Greenberg popped out, and Stiles was stunned to learn even fucking _Greenberg_ was able to get a date to the dance, and he gets up in dazed horror because he almost made out with _Greenberg's_ date.

* * *

Eventually he learned he stole the guitar from the live band playing in the ballroom for their prom. Promenade as he told Greenberg's date. He only found out when Lydia went on a rampage because she organized the entire event and the band was threatening to sue as the guitar was one of a kind, signed by some famous rocker dude, and mistakes did not happen to Lydia Lynn Martin. (Of course they did, but everyone was too tactful - read terrified - to ever point this out to her).

The guitar was returned and everyone was happy.

Except Stiles because he still couldn't get over the fact he almost made out with _Greenberg's_ date.

* * *

High school ended, which was something Stiles wanted to happen since he started, always sure there was something better out there.

Then he went _out there_.

Within two years he was coming back, four semesters away from a degree of some sort, and wanting to move back in with his dad, only to be stunned with the news the Sheriff had found a new lady friend who did not appreciate twenty-something young men sneaking into the house while she's trying to do a sexy night and scare the bejesus out of her.

Scott and Isaac had finally admitted their bro-love was love-love, and moved into a tiny studio apartment together in L.A. so Stiles couldn't crash there. Lydia was still back east scaring her peers at MIT and he wasn't close enough with either Boyd or Erica to even pretend he could call them.

So Derek it was.

Sometime during Stiles' Junior year at BHHS, Derek had finally decided to use some of the insurance money he inherited and put it towards a small house at the outskirts of town. It was close enough to the Preserve to allow for some Full Moon Madness (TM) while also a more respectable address than the burnt out husk of his family home. It also helped add legitimacy to Derek's claim when he tried to get guardianship of Isaac so he wasn't farmed out to any more foster homes (it worked because this was a small town and Stiles worked on his father until the man threw in the towel and called in a few favors owed to him for his years of agreeable silences over some slight but still illegal activity he overlooked).

His knuckles hurt when he rapped on the door and he was disappointed he made it to the porch without Derek hearing him and opening the door. It was the first time, ever, so he worriedly peeked in through the large bay window overlooking the porch and saw Derek in a romantic clinch with a pretty red-head (and his heart stopped for a minute before he realized there was no way it could by Lydia), and he did an about face, rushing from the porch like it was on fire.

Maybe it was just his (broken) heart.

Or could be indigestion.

* * *

Stiles had come to terms with his attraction to strong and dangerous people who went bump in the night - Lydia _sooo_ counted since she could stir up a mean Molatov cocktail _and_ make grown Alphas quail by virtue of one "hmmmph" sound - and also accepted his feelings weren't returned.

He didn't pine well and summoned up his courage to give his heart to Derek on a silver platter. Or in this case, over a nice steak dinner from a deer the betas had hunted the moon before.

Derek had taken the news of Stiles' infatuation without expression before resting a hand on his. Now Stiles was used to a fair amount of contact since Weres were tactile by nature, but he could feel something off about Derek's touch.

Apparently the Alpha didn't swing that way and while he was flattered by Stiles' attraction and feelings, he just wasn't born that way (and Lady Gaga totally started singing in his head when Derek _actually said those words_ , which helped keep the hysteria from bubbling forth). They parted amicably, and Stiles then went on an ill-advised streak of putting out to anyone who'd have him once he got to the Stanford campus.

It got old after awhile and then he came home.

To irrefutable proof Derek had finally moved on from the overall fuckery of his last relationship. And how.

So Stiles left town, his Pack none the wiser for his visit or Derek for what Stiles had seen.

* * *

Stiles couldn't believe he ran into _Greenberg's_ date at a shitty little bar in Scott and Isaac's neighborhood, but she was still fairy princess pretty (still Disney's version not the real kind) and was down to fuck. It was only a week since he saw Derek with the Redheaded Bomber (TM) and he was depressed as hell, and only came out to the bar to get away from the cloying cooing between Scott and Isaac. How in hell Scott was even worse with Isaac than he ever was with Allison is a conundrum Stiles doubts he'll ever wrap his mind around.

In any case, that's how he found himself half-naked at daybreak with an equally half-naked fairy princess and a dead homeless guy on the bench a hundred yards away. It wouldn't be the first time Stiles found himelf this way (half-naked with a dead person nearby), but definitely the first time under these particular circumstances (nothing supernatural about it). It was humiliation piled on humiliation since he'd already spend two hours trying to get his dick perky, but his dick was a bastard with a mind of his own and it wasn't responding to fairy princess pretty - it was sulking it wasn't getting quality time with a certain scruffy wolven bastard who prefers to suck the tonsils of Redheaded Bombers (TM).

Fortunately he wasn't arrested or charged or put on the Sex Offenders Registry (which was surprising given he was half-naked in a children's play castle in the middle of a playground with children nearby), and he slunk back to Scott's with his (figurative) tail tucked between his legs.

* * *

Now if Scott was more observant or Isaac less protective of his Alpha, both Weres might've helped their respective loved ones avoid oodles of misery, but the boys were dick deep in a new romance and couldn't be bothered with trivial aspects of life or Pack.

This was a decision that would come back to haunt them if only because their cell phone minutes were chewed up by pining and whining by Stiles, who despite living with them called to talk to Scott at all hours and the silly uneven-jawed bonehead always answered, and Derek who didn't understand why Stiles wouldn't come back for vacations and holidays and just because like the first two years.

Isaac knew of Derek's relationship with the Redheaded Bomber (TM) and disapproved if only because he knew the older Were was just killing time until Stiles was settled and ready for committment. It was an unspoken truth in the Hale Adjacent Pack (so named by Stiles back in the good old bad days because there were more non-Hales than Hales) that Derek loved Stiles and Stiles loved him back. No one knew of Derek's speech (read blatant lie) to gently let Stiles down, or everyone would've handled it differently.

Less kid gloves and more _From Russia with Love_ complete with nuclear holocaust because those two blockheads would only believe after getting pummeled to an inch of their lives by truth.

Scott refused to think about Stiles' love life and focused on his own.

* * *

Stiles knew none of this, of course, and lived his life accordingly to the information at hand: Derek was so straight he made straight lines look crooked and he had a girlfriend so there was no hope for Stiles. He moved off of Scott and Isaac's couch, enrolled in the Police Academy much to his bewildered father's pride, and aced all his tests to become a patrol cop.

Okay, not really, though Stiles did have a lot of dreams about rolling back into Beacon Hills wearing a tight cop's uniform and pulling Derek over, who wouldn't recognize him and would hit on him, or maybe Stiles would pull Derek out of the car for a routine cavity search...heh, heh, heh.

In reality he wallowed in his misery, finally got smacked around by Lydia during a brief West Coast appearance, and moved off the couch into an apartment with three roommates who wouldn't be out of place on an MTV reality show. It was cramped, expensive, and probably the best years of his life. When he finally accepted his fantasies of Derek wising up to his considerable charms were never coming true, Stiles started dating, though this time with the acknowledgement he was worth the time his date spent on him, and vice versa.

And finally finished his degree.

It was the best possible outcome, even if Stiles' trips home coincided with Derek's rare out of town trips.

* * *

Everything came to a head, surprisingly, because of Greenberg.

Five years to the day of nearly making out with Greenberg's Prom date, Stiles cruised into town in his new (to him) jeep he picked up for a steal at a police auction. It was his father's fiftieth birthday and he was under the strictest instructions not to puss out on the party - his father's lady friend's exact words. Classy woman, really. - and so he packed up for a weekend. 

The ominous rattle shortly followed by the lurching of the front half of the jeep alerted Stiles to something being wrong in his world.

Getting out, he first stared at the large pothole he could've sworn wasn't there a minute ago, and then the crunched hood of his brand new (to him) vehicle. And then finally the wizard currently trying to channel Gandalf with an outstretched hand and the _you shall not pass_ echoing in his head, if not his ears.

In the middle of the road.

 _Seriously_.

He was dressed in white robes with an obviously fake white beard glued to his face.

 _Fuck his life_.

Recognition flared for both when Stiles finally realized why the eyes and nose looked familiar and the wizard - Greenberg - connected the annoying buzz-cut loudmouth kid with the lean blade dressed in artfully distressed blue jeans and a soft red Henley. His Sight had developed beneath Finstock's tutelage, though it was often sporadic so it was a shock to See Stilinski's true form.

They were both dangerous, though one to himself, and the other to anyone who crossed him.

Ten guesses which was which and the first nine didn't count.

So naturally that's when Derek wolf-jumped into the middle of the non-confrontational, less Mexican and more begrudging Texan standoff, and proceeded to make it  worse.

Much worse.

Like, clue my dad in to the supernatural element in this town and please dial Deaton and Finstock so we can put out the magical fire before it consumes the valley kind of worse.

The kind of worse where Redheaded Bombshell (TM) was not only a sexy fuck-hot werewolftress but also part of a supernatural response team Deaton had formed in order to help keep the citizens of Beacon Hills safe during magical crises, though Stiles would like to point out (and did, loudly, and at great length) he wasn't at fault for this.

It wasn't his fault Greenberg had an itchy trigger finger and two hundred pounds of pissed off Were in his face made him pull it.

At least he hadn't compounded the problem by farting.

That would've just been overkill.

Either way, it was Greenberg's fault for everything, and most importantly, for making Stiles face the one man he couldn't forget. He hadn't really tried, just acknowledged the attraction and forced it deep down, while going on with his life. Stiles knew he had the reputation as the boy who loved Lydia Martin, which was still true though the love had mutated from a distant infatuation into one of solidarity and respect - on his part, not hers - so he felt like his secret feelings for Derek were, well, secret.

* * *

Except Redheaded Bombshell (TM) wasn't an idiot and had the advantage of being an outsider who wasn't close to the situation.

Or in love with Derek Hale.

Mostly it was the fact she wasn't heels over head in love with Derek Hale.

Sure he was pretty to look at, but he didn't really talk either in or out of bed, so it never bothered her their relationship was less about mutual feelings and more about mutual orgasms in between rotating patrol shifts.

It was a good thing while it lasted, but the minute she laid eyes on Red Henley (TM), she knew it was over. Derek wasn't a mysterious brooding anti-hero cast in the mold of Heathcliff, but more a quiet, thoughtful man who regretted lying to his love and castigated himself for the mistake from the day Stiles left Beacon Hills for the bigger world.

She liked Derek well enough, but it wasn't her who put the shine in his eyes or the wag in his tail. If anything, she was somewhat of a romantic and preferred for true love to conquer all since living was already hard enough.

So she lured them both to Deaton's under false pretenses and locked them inside the office.

But not before she took off the inside door handle so they couldn't get out until they resolved their problems (and the door was reinforced tungsten inlaid with titanium and silver so even Derek wouldn't be able to take it apart with his bare claws).

* * *

So that happened.

Being locked in a room with Derek was torture.

Or probably would've been but Derek had grown up and maybe Stiles had a little too.

They talked.

Actually talked.

Derek had always felt a connection to Stiles even before they'd become Pack, a statement that surprised Stiles into almost stuttering humbleness especially when Derek followed up with geniune compliments.

Stiles wanted to retaliate of course and struck back with his own compliments and adorations.

Stiles got was coming to him.

His first kiss with Derek - minutes (eons, days, you know it's a good kiss when time becomes unimportant) after their lips separated, Stiles made mention of their previous foray into kissingdom, and Derek said it didn't count because a Djinn made them do it. After several Derek kisses later, Stiles then faced head on the biggest hurdle: Derek's heterosexuality. The stubbled face currently trying to meld with his neck was certainly a good counter argument but it was an undeniable fact of his world until it wasn't.

And the garbled explanation said through gritted teeth and accompanied by the oppressive pressure of Derek's martyrdom, made enough sense for Stiles to ponder which of the two roads stretched out before him to take: the high road filled with potholes of self-righteousness and misery for both or the road less taken that could possibly lead to a lifetime of happiness. 

It was a brand new day, so he reached out with both (grabby) hands and took what he wanted most in life.

* * *

Stiles was lost and drunk.

Stiles was lost and drunk in the only nice hotel in Beacon Hills.

Stiles was lost and drunk in the only nice hotel in Beacon Hills while carrying an empty bucket intended for ice and a burning desire to get what he needed and quickly get back to his room.

Just as he found the ice machine - which for the record was _not_ at the end of the hall but around the bend  - warm arms enveloped him from behind and Stiles immediately lolled his head against broad shoulders even as large half-clawed hands wandered down his body to dip below the black Batman boxers he only wore for special occasions.

The filthy things being whispered into his ear while clawed hands played with his suddenly wide awake dick, coupled with the sex-drunk haze he existed under for the past several hours, made him loopy enough to decide being thrust up (heh, heh, heh) against the hallway wall was a good idea.

Of course Derek was a man just bursting with good ideas, starting with placing a ring on Stiles' left hand before allowing a matching one to slide onto his.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, Dylan O'Brien looked HOT HOT HOT on New Girl- god I'm in love with his new look - and he was the guy who got away from Jessica during the prom. Now in real life, Zoey is a decade older than him, but in the show, they did a good job of de-aging her so she was believable as a girl he might like. As I'm watching him, however, I couldn't help but see Derek lurking in the background with a glower on his face. Oh, and the part where he yells "I think I might be gay!" totally seemed like a shout out to Sterek fans watching - or maybe that was just me. Probably just me. And even if you don't watch the show, you need to just to ogle Dylan's ripped upper body (he gets half-naked)!
> 
> Either way, this little bit of drabble spun off my fingertips. I didn't even type it up in a word document, but came straight here, so unbeta'd and unedited, just a little head's up.


End file.
